by Pamela Ann
I was her best fuck, and she knew it. “If you don’t want any competition, Cara, you’ve gotta learn how to get on your knees and suck dick. The first rule in keeping a fuckboy in check…you’ve gotta try it sometimes.”
She blinked at me, her smile slowly retreating. “You know I don’t really … do that.”
Well, let me refresh your memory. “You changed your tune in Sweden.”
“That’s different. I was trying to keep you, to make you happy.” She grimaced, looking away. “Guess that means you’ll continue being the way you are, and I get to wait until you need me.”
Watching her apprehension felt good. Yes, the witch was bothered. Cara didn’t like not being worshipped. She’d gotten so used to men granting her anything that seeing me with Dulce had fucked with her ego.
“The solution’s in your hands, Cara.” I let my eyes travel around her pretty face, overwhelmed by emotions rioting all through me. I dared not decipher what it all meant. “Go wash up. I’ll be there in a minute.” Right now, after vowing never to have sex with her and ending up caving in to my body’s demands, I wondered if it would sway my decision of letting her go after Coachella.
Her hands touched my chest, as if she wanted more contact, as if she yearned to get closer to me. Dark eyes lifted to meet mine, and I could feel her thinking … pondering … weighing … yet I had no idea what it was.
“Join me in the shower. I can wash you if you want,” she offered, albeit reluctantly, as her cheeks flushed bright red.
Shower? Shower … ha. This wasn’t what she was thinking. But did I really care to find out what it was? Besides, peeling layers of this newly transformed Cara wasn’t in the cards. I mean, at the end of the day, I knew there was nothing underneath it. Just superficiality. Nothing of substance. Merely smoke and mirrors. And more mind games to entertain her.
It was best to keep her in her place—on her back, on her knees, but never in my heart. She had shut that door forever.
This was as good as it got with me. She had better get used to it.
“I’ll shower after you. I have to check some stuff.” I had nothing to do. She knew it, too, yet she didn’t challenge the outright lie.
“All right…” she huffed out before she slid off the piano keys. On her tippy toes, she lingered at my neck before pressing her lips to my skin. “I miss you,” she whispered closely into my ear before darting out of the living room, disappearing into the master bedroom.
I could hear the shower running. The steady hum of the fridge. The deafening sound of my heart racketing all through my chest.
I miss you.
Three little fucking words. But I didn’t know what they meant in her dictionary. They could mean all sorts of fucking things. Still, the effect didn’t lessen their impact.
Those words made me end up downing the rest of the opened bottle of whiskey. It was an hour after when I found myself in the master suite, standing before her sleeping body while I slowly began to jerk off my dick. Ready for round two.
This time, I prepped her body with the tip of my cock, using it to tease her opening and her clit, gliding it in until she became wetter.
“Juan…” Cara gasped, her hips undulating as her legs opened wider. “Cariño…cógeme…”
Hesitantly, I paused to check on her, seeing if she was wide awake, but she appeared to be asleep. Okay … Was she dreaming of Juan again?
Fuck. Way to go. Kill a man’s confidence.
Should I stop, or should continue having sex with her? My dick made the decision for me.
“Yes … cógeme … cógeme duro…” Her moans weren’t getting any louder. They sounded muffled. Each time she spoke a cógeme, her cunt squirted more juices.
Cógeme … What does that mean?
Juan stayed every night I took her. And every night, I couldn’t bring myself to cum. Hearing his name kept me up at night. Hell, holding her was out of the question. I kept my distance at every single turn.
Since Arush and Willa knew Cara was with me, the rest of the crew welcomed her. I’d purposely sit across from her whenever we dined with everyone. At a club. On the jet. Even in the limo.
She had no idea what was happening to me, but she knew something was up. So, she tried to pacify me by initiating sex, but I always pulled away.
I dropped the ball after four days and began to entertain hot women when we were out clubbing. Not for the actual sex, but for the oral kind. Cara was there, of course, and I was sure she knew what was going on when I took them into the backroom for half an hour or so, but she never uttered a word about it. Each time I come out after the session with them, she’d stare me down for a good ten minutes before leaving me to party.
During daylight, I rejected her advances, only to come back to her at night, drunk and high, seeking shelter in her warmth … only to find her pretending I was another man.
I was not an idiot. I knew it pissed her off, and it didn’t help that I’d been refusing her with sex. But what she didn’t know was the nocturnal sessions I had with her.
It was the night before Coachella when I learned what it meant. Fucking me a little more.
Cógeme … fuck me.
Cógeme duro … fuck me harder.
I didn’t want to be a little bitch, but hell, it stung. It stung a great deal. As a result, when Petra invited herself to join my crew for Coachella, I didn’t even care. Maybe having her around would make me feel a little better. Yes, it was petty. I know it was pathetic to even go there, but Juan … How the fuck did he get to fuck with me even when he was six feet below the ground?
Three more days.
Freedom awaited.
It couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 20
Cara
It had been ten days since he’d voluntarily touched me. Plain old brushing and touching had become nonexistent. Ever since that one night I came onto him while playing the piano, any form of physical contact—be it touching his arm, kissing his cheek, trying to seduce him—had all been initiated by me.
Did I have a massive sign stating I had the Ebola virus or something? Because River certainly looked at me as if he’d learned a secret that I’m some dormant carrier of the deadly disease.
I had tried to approach the subject, but he’d been tight-lipped since that night we’d had the most mind-blowing sex on top of the piano.
Pretty much, I had driven myself crazy by wondering what the mystery answer was.
To top off my already amazing situation, I was a woman on an island, surrounded by people who kept me at arm’s length. The only person treating me without any malice was Arush. But apart from him, Willa—even Phoenix at times—had been colder than the Arctic. Phoenix and Rock, I understood their side since they were River’s friends. But Willa? Hers was purely done with jealousy. I’d never seen her so clingy, so protective, and so helplessly in love with her boss. Working for him definitely heightened and worsened her unrequited obsession with River.
Every time River came into the room, crazy eyes happened. It was like a switch. The poor woman lit up brighter than a Christmas tree when River was around. Not welcoming me with open arms or even with fake enthusiasm was for the best.
Playing nice with her always felt like pulling teeth, anyway. By giving me the cold shoulder, she saved us both from pretending to like each other. Besides, the less I interacted with her, the better my day went. However, since River intentionally dined with his gang every single night, I had to tolerate her energy influencing mine from a few chairs down. It didn’t help that whenever I was within earshot, the bitch would always talk about how “psyched” she was to see Petra joining us in Coachella.
“Psyched” probably would be a stretch since she was harboring her own secret hankerings for River. And seeing that Petra could be with River whenever she wanted, I was sure it ticked Willa off. But since I was currently in the picture, joining up arms with the enemy to fight off the biggest threat—ahem, insert me—was the wisest thing to do.
Apart from sex, they had little to worry about. This life—River and everything else he came with—I was so over it. This was my past. I’d made a decision to leave it all behind me, and I’d successfully done so. I intended to keep it that way.
But, lately, with River so far from reach mentally and physically, it made me more…needy, perhaps? It didn’t mean I was in love with the guy. Far from it. But how could he fuck me to the center of the earth one night then refuse to touch me the next? I was left reeling, bereft, and baffled. What man would do such a thing?
At first, I thought it didn’t make sense. I tried countlessly to entice him to come to me, to come to my bed, to fuck me whenever and wherever he desired, but he would always have some stupid excuse. He had to practice, his trainer was waiting, he was tuning his guitar, he was running late, had to pen a few lines—WTF! The list was endless. Heck, I even tried to do it his way. I got on my knees, ready to blow him off just so he could fuck me again, but the man was unyielding. Demanding answers as to why he was purposely rejecting me time and time again had been asked in vain. Then one night, it all became clear to me … He’d found more Dulce’s to entertain him.
This didn’t sit well with me. I blew a gasket.
Obviously.
What reasonable woman wouldn’t?
I was beyond enraged and was ready to pounce on those bitches who’d claimed him for the night, but thank God I didn’t succumb to becoming a full-blown idiot. Could you imagine what Willa would’ve done? She’d probably have it on video just so she could savor her so-called victory.
Each time the urge to go bonkers was about to take hold of me, I thought of Willa and her little smirk, and my temper slightly dissipated. It was all a matter of perspective really. Willa or take on River … Obviously, I’d never let Willa have her little victory dance; however, imagining what River’s priceless reaction would be was almost worth it.
Crazy antics aside, it wasn’t my place to complain, which led me to wonder why I hadn’t established it as one of my solid rules in the first place. Stupid me was too busy all up in my ass ensuring I kept him on his toes, barraging him with whatever rules I could come up with so sex wouldn’t be as intimate as it used to be. Yes, sex wasn’t as intimate or as affectionate compared to before, but it didn’t change the fact that sex with my ex had never been better. In fact, it was the best yet. It was so, so fucking good I was begging the man to touch me.
Implementing rules in the middle of the arrangement was unheard of. Besides, he was barely speaking to me. Did I dare push him further? Well, it was too late to demand exclusivity, and I had no one to blame but myself. I had made my bed, so I must endure seeing him flaunt his bullshit until this was over.
Had his sex game gone dull and monotonous, I wouldn’t even bother. But just my luck, the stud was so unbelievably amazing I could officially declare my pussy got high whenever I got a whiff of him.
Damn. Had I turned into a Willa 2.0?
Fuck me.
Seeing my apparent distress made my arch enemy giddy with joy. She’d wear an idiotic smirk every time River came back with a new woman hanging off his arm, while I’d end up steaming in annoyance. Sometimes quietly, but most of the time, not so much.
But even more so, I’d never felt so unwanted in my entire adult life.
What had happened to the guy who couldn’t refuse my body?
River had always…
ALWAYS…
Wanted me.
Since the beginning of time.
Now, all of a sudden, after rocking my world, he found other women much more appealing? What the fuck? I didn’t get it. I knew River felt the palpable chemistry between us. Each time he touched me, every time he was inside of me, the lust—the maddening chemistry—grew bigger, brighter. It had affected us both. I mean, had it been only me feeling this way, it wouldn’t be as potent.
The wild savage look he had each time he plunged into my body was so stormy it still affected me greatly. I could easily picture him growling like a vicious animal, possessing me in every way, trying with all his might to satiate a perpetual hunger.
He couldn’t get enough, just like I felt for him. As a result, for him to run hot then cold in less than eight hours after that memorable night confused the hell out of me.
At first, I imagined he aimed to just fuck with my head after what I’d done to Dulce, but as he continued down the same road every night, I knew it was serious. River Ellis had gotten over me … sex-wise.
If a once in love man got over you, he moved on, sure … but he’d rarely turn down an opportunity for a quick romp. Yet with River, he had gotten over me on both fronts, which was … well, unexpected. The loving part, I understood. But the sex part? It just didn’t add up. Before Hong Kong, Everett, and Dulce happened, I could’ve sworn he wasn’t even going to see other women. The way he looked at me—all too consuming, as if he saw no one else but me—I knew that look too well. But I guess my confidence was misplaced.
Could he see what his indifference was doing to me? Did he not care I was beginning to become self-conscious to the point where I began to compare myself to one of the women he flirted with?
I despised myself for caring. I loathed it so fucking much. But it couldn’t’ change the bare fact that I did care. It pained me to ache for his touch when he obviously found me less compelling, less attractive to quench his physical needs.
In all our history together, I thought this was the longest time we’d been around each other and had not been intimate. He used to love touching me—kissing my forehead, squeezing the side of my hip, my thighs … Any excuse to touch me, he would. He couldn’t resist it. He couldn’t resist me. I was his addiction; he’d said as much. Even when he’d tried to win me back when I was with Parker, or even in Sweden … River never went cold turkey on me. Never.
Things had obviously changed, and there was nothing to be done but to accept my current situation.
As hard as it was, I succeeded to appear as though I had curbed my yearning. Gradually, I stopped reaching out to him, too.
It saved what little pride I had left, which wasn’t much at this point.
The only thing saving my sanity was the knowledge that I was leaving for Toronto soon to shoot the third season of Clover. Sure, my screen time wasn’t as packed as the others since Addison wanted my schedule to be available to take on the role of Ace. The second movie was yet to be secured, so fingers crossed.
But at times, like right this instant, the man sat across from me, appearing deep in thought with his brows buried in his forehead while his right thumb moved, as if he was imagining he was strumming a song. It was these silent moments when I itched to touch him. Most of the time, he’d catch my lingering gazes, and those dark accusing eyes never failed to erase the illusion.
And he did just that again, shutting me down with one of those cutting looks I was beginning to know so well.
Still, the rebel in me couldn’t look away. He could send me all the death stares he liked, but my eyes were harmless. However, a tiny part of me flickered, hoping this weekend he’d change his mind and seek me out to end this sexless drought he’d punished me with.
The likely scenario would be the same old, same old, and if he remained a total dick-wad—well, it was his loss.
Kells and Anton wouldn’t be able to join. Kells and Phoenix apparently were on a break, and with Anton busy with his new show as one of the writers, I was basically on my own with no friends to boost my ebbing confidence.
I needed a mad reboot to rescue some pride back. I was desperate for a change, even for a short time. A new set of energy to surround myself with … anything to feel sane, to feel like a woman again.
With Juan hounding me and River’s incessant rejection, I wanted refuge. A simple hug. A friendly smile. Anything that was the opposite of hostile, I was willing to take.
The sprawling mansion in Palm Springs we were staying in for the weekend was so massive I doubted I’d get to see River at
all.
It had a studio, a gym, and even an air-conditioned basketball court. The main house, which had eight bedrooms, was sitting empty except for the two occupied ones. Mine being one, and the other being River’s. And I could bet my entire savings this man would hardly be sleeping here. So why the fuck did he choose this enormous mcmansion when there’d be only me enjoying my company? Was this his blatant way to properly emphasize how much he wanted to distance himself from me? If it was, he could’ve saved himself the trouble. I wasn’t born yesterday. I got the message loud and clear.
His friends and some of the crew stayed in the little two-bedroom villas around the property, Willa and Petra included. The villas and the main house were only separated by this long stretch of a golf course.
To me, it wasn’t far enough away from his harem. River would be expected to do what rock stars do around these festivals. He’d be preoccupied with partying with his boys and his flavor of the night, so whatever.
I would find my own way around. Besides, this was freaking Coachella. Most of young Hollywood would be here, tuning in for the fun. So, I suppose this weekend wouldn’t be as depressing as previously imagined.
“Aren’t you going to invite me to wherever you’re going?”
I stopped him dead in his tracks. River was about to go out the door when I caught him just in time. I stood on top of the stairs’ landing, looking below, dressed in my electric blue micro mini dress.
We’d arrived less than an hour ago. River’s hair was still wet from the shower, and he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Was it to see Petra? Maybe so. Dressed in jeans and a black wife beater, he looked like a ten-course dessert. My mouth watered, and my pussy clenched upon gazing down at him. I wanted him so badly I ached within.
“I’m going to chill with the guys. You’re more than welcome to come. It’s the second villa to the left. El Mariposa.”
He wasn’t necessarily welcoming, but nor did he show any enthusiasm. He might as well recite the back of a cereal box; maybe he’d show more excitement then.